We head off in a tight group, the four of us. There’s a whole crowd of students hanging out at the front of the school just inside the gate. Some are talking to journalists but most are just watching. Waiting, I realize. For me.

I’m flanked by Molly and Eleanor, and Rose is on Molly’s other side. We have to be more careful than ever not to touch.

But I have her cape.

When the students notice us they part, forming a sort of hallway of bodies for us to pass through. It’s like being on the worst red carpet imaginable.

We’re swamped by the press at the gate. The majority of journalists head for Rose and me. A couple of wily ones think to speak to Eleanor and Molly. They won’t have the bigger story, but their quotes will be more exclusive. Props to them. Sort of.

I end up separated from Rose. And that’s when the fear hits.

I’m bombarded by camera flashes, turning the world a bright white. Everyone’s yelling at me at once, and my already-throbbing headache is building with a vengeance. I stand without saying a word, because what the hell do I say? The mini-speech I came up with in the room earlier has vanished from my mind, and I think it was only about Rose and me, anyway. But most of this has nothing to do with Rose, right? Most of this is me telling the world I’m bi.

Holy shit. I haven’t even told Mom. Everything’s been so panicked and scrambled and confused that the reality of this has only hit me right now.

I wanted to come out, I think. But this is definitely not what I had in mind.

They’re faceless, the people in front of me. Their figures have no details. They blend together, blurred by those blinding lights.

“Danni, tell us about—”

“Thea Brunswick from the Midday Spectator, Danni, and I was wondering if—”

“Is it true that you and Molly Kwon—”

Then someone shouts it, clear as anything. “Were the photos fake, Danni?”

I look sort of in the direction of the voice. This is it. I can’t even see who I’m speaking to, for god’s sake. It doesn’t matter, though. Not really. I’m not speaking to them. I’m speaking to everybody in the country.

Here we go. “No. They weren’t fake,” I say in a shaking voice. I almost can’t get the words out.

“Are you straight?”